


The King of Anything

by OhhhCrowley



Series: A Soul And A Summoning [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby SInger - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhhhCrowley/pseuds/OhhhCrowley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby calls on Crowley again, determined to settle the score once and for all. However when the demon turns up drunk things head in a different direction altogether.<br/>Set during 'Weekend at Bobby's' and part 2 of the 'A Soul & A Summoning'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King of Anything

**Author's Note:**

> I love the dynamic between Crowley and Bobby and I feel like during their last scene together in WaB Crowley was actually willing to open up a little bit. Plus I'm convinced he was at least a bit drunk, and drunk Crowley is really cute.

Bobby clenched his teeth, drawing the blade across his palm and raising his hand up to let the blood fall. He’d done this so often of late that it was starting to feel disturbingly normal. Here he was again, performing the spell that would summon the demon Crowley to him. A thrill of fear went through him, accompanied by something else he tried to push to the back of his mind. 

As he uttered the last word he turned and saw the demon appear, rubbing his eyes. Damn he looked rough, drained and exhausted and sad. 

“Well, you look like hammered crap.”

Crowley raised his eyes and passed them over the hunter before grunting derisively, a half-hearted smile lifting the corner of his mouth. 

“And you’re a vision as always,” he said, voice strangely empty and lacking the usual cocky confidence. His eyes fixed on Bobby for some time, watching him move the bowl and spell ingredients around, awkward and uncomfortable. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bobby wanted to say something, to make a snide remark, get their usual banter started. Yet something stopped him from opening his mouth, made the words die in his throat. He took fleeting glances at the demon, the disheveled clothes and the unkempt hair, the tinge of pallor in his skin. 

“How’s Hell?” he asked, guiding the conversation in another direction. Damnit, he was getting soft in his old age. This was supposed to be a business call; he was determined to get his soul back once and for all. The boys were waiting for him, they’d flown all the way to Scotland to dig up the demons bones for Pete’s sake, but he just couldn’t bring himself to get on with it. 

Crowley let out a bitter, hollow bark that might have been intended as a laugh and eyed the bottle of whiskey he held in his hand. “How do you think?”

“Don’t tell me there’s trouble in Paradise…”

Crowley sneered, removing the top from the bottle and taking a swig. “You know Singer, I thought when I got the corner office it’d be all rainbows and two headed puppies… but honestly?” he swung back to face the hunter with a stagger, and Bobby realised that he must be drunk. “It’s been Hell.”

Bobby watched as the demon raised the bottle to his lips again and began to gulp the whiskey down, done away with all the usual airs and graces that he went in for. He wasn’t even using a glass at this point and Bobby knew that by the time you’d reached that stage, you were in trouble. He glanced at the phone in his hand, knowing Dean would be pacing impatiently, waiting for him. Then he put it down on the table and grabbed a chair, carrying it over to where the other man stood. Placing it on the ground, he pushed it across the boundary of the Devil’s Trap.

“Sit down before you fall down will you?”

Crowley glanced at the chair and at the way Bobby still had one foot inside the trap. For a moment he seemed to be considering grabbing hold of him the way he’d done during their last meeting, but then he simply placed a hand on the chair, steadied himself and sat down in it. 

“A throne for a King.” He said, but the words were devoid of all pride. 

Bobby turned to look back at the desk and then took another look at the drunken creature in front of him. If he was going to carry on with the plan, the unveiling of Gavin, the threat of torching Crowley’s bones, then he had to do it now. He could feel himself rapidly losing his nerve as he watched the way Crowley glanced into the empty bottle, eyes watery and miserable as a lost puppy. He was used to dealing with the demon when he was quick, sharp and infuriating… this was just _pathetic_. From this distance Bobby could smell the sharp scent of whiskey pouring off him. To say he’d had a bit too much was a pretty massive understatement. 

“Balls…” he muttered, moving instead to lean against the table that stood next to where Crowley sat. 

“You know what the problem with demons is?” Crowley spoke up suddenly, making Bobby jump.

“They’re demons?”

Crowley looked a little shocked at that, as though he hadn’t expected the right answer, and then nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Evil lying prats. The whole lot of them.” He scrunched up his face in disgust, “and… stupid! Try to show them a… a new way, a better way. And what do you get? Bugger all.”

“What were you expectin’ exactly Your Highness?”

“A few declarations of unceasing loyalty…” he replied, giving Bobby a look that suggested he was only half joking.

What was the world coming to? All sorts of weird demons springing out of the woodwork in places they decidedly _shouldn’t_ be and their King moping in his basement like a moody teenager.

“Have any more?” Crowley waved the empty bottle at the hunter hopefully. “Anything will do. Give me some of that Gut Rot you mentioned last time.”

“Oh you wouldn’t believe how much that ain’t happenin’” Bobby chided, reaching forward and taking hold of the bottle. He was surprised at how easily the demon handed it over and then found himself flinching as Crowley took hold of his wrist. 

Time seemed to drag past as they looked at each other, Crowley’s hand never moving. Then he smiled softly, an expression so close to innocence that Bobby could hardly believe his eyes. 

“You keep your promises, don’t you?” Crowley asked, finally dropping his hand and allowing the bottle to be placed on the table. “I was curious how long it would be before I ended up back here again. Still missing that soul are we?”

Bobby swallowed, trying not to rise to the bait.

“I will have my soul back Crowley. You know it don’t belong to you.”

Crowley shrugged, watching Bobby’s face intently. “You do.”

“What?” the hunter asked, heart racing. He didn’t want to hear the answer and yet he found himself leaning forward to hear what came next. 

“You. Singer. Mine.” Crowley emphasised, not skipping a beat. Apparently all of his false coyness went out of the window as soon as he’d had a few. “As long as I have your soul, you’re mine.”

It was Bobby’s turn to laugh. “The soul of an old, belligerent drunk. Can’t think why you’d wan’ it.”

“You moron,” Crowley spat, giving the hunter a hard and piercing look. “So hard to believe you could possibly be worth something is it?”

Worth somethin’ to you, yeah…” Bobby said, unable to take his eyes from the demon. “I told you I was loanin’ it.”

“You pawned it.” Crowley countered, “You don’t just go into the pawn shop and ask for something back. You have to buy it back.”

Bobby thought about that for a moment, and about what had transpired the last time they tried to iron this out. They’d ended up… well, off topic was putting it lightly, and Crowley had tricked him. Was this all just an act? A way to wriggle free once again? Looking at the man before him he could hardly believe it could be true, but then wasn’t he a master of deception?

“No pain, no gain,” Crowley said after waiting to see if Bobby would respond. “You think I can give you something for nothing? The world doesn’t work that way kitten.”

Bobby sighed, moving from the table to kneel down on the floor next to the chair. Reaching out tentatively he placed a hand on the demon’s shoulder, swearing at himself under his breath. Where the hell were they heading here? This felt like stepping up to a Tiger and hoping it didn’t maul you when you dared to touch it. Crowley himself was always telling the hunter to remember his true nature, telling him in not so many words that he would screw him over in an instant. Then he would turn up like this, or let down his guard just a little, and suddenly Bobby would find himself fighting to remember his better instincts.

“So… what do you want?” he asked, voice gruff and low. Crowley looked at him, biting his lip. He looked almost nervous, unsure if he should speak his mind. Bobby pinched himself quickly to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. This was getting pretty surreal, which was saying something given the week he’d been having.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I’ve already done that… If I remember rightly that’s how I got here.” 

“No.” Crowley shook his head and scooted a little closer, lowering his voice to a secretive whisper. “Kiss me because you want to, not because you have to.”

Bobby mentally shook himself, knowing that he was about to do something monumentally stupid. What was the saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… 

Reaching out, he took hold of Crowley’s face, pulling him in so that he fell from the chair. “Alright,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing him. The taste of whiskey was so strong in his mouth that it almost burned and Bobby realized that he’d missed the familiarity of it. 

Crowley’s body seemed to freeze for a moment, unsure of what was going on. Then he placed his hands on Bobby’s shoulders and righted himself so that he was kneeling over his lap. Wrapping his arms around the hunter’s neck he ran his fingers through the long hair, enjoying the way it made his breathing quicken. He’d forgotten how it felt to be kissed this way, to be wanted. He hated the realization, didn’t want to remember… and yet he couldn’t seem to forget. 

“Bobby,” he said, breaking the kiss and looking at the man beneath him. He looked as drunk as Crowley felt. 

“What?” Bobby said, opening his eyes. 

“I want more this time.” He looked down, eyes trailing over Bobby’s chest and down to the faded jeans that the hunter favored. He saw Bobby’s gaze follow his own and watched a flicker of fear cross his face. “No. What I mean to say is, I want you to.” 

“Want me to… what?” Bobby asked, still unsure of where things were headed. “…kitten…” he added, trying out one of Crowley’s words. He saw Crowley shudder in response, his eyes blazing... he’d have to remember that. 

“Fuck me.” He stated simply, fingers tracing figure eights on Bobby’s neck. 

“Crowley, you’re drunk. You don’t mean… you don’t know…”

“So I’m asking you a little more nicely than usual. You think I didn’t want the exact same thing last time? Was I drunk then?”

Bobby could feel heat rising into his face at the frankness in Crowley’s tone, and at the thought of what he might be about to do. “Well, no…” he conceded. “Never quite figured you for a bottom though.”

“Never heard of a Switch?” Crowley purred, grinning at the way that made Bobby’s jaw drop. 

“You really wan’ me to?” the hunter asked, his eyes roaming over Crowley’s body. He was almost surprised at how much he wanted this, how much he wanted him. Almost.

“Yes. I really want you to.” Crowley leaned forward, capturing him in another kiss, nibbling at his lower lip. He shifted as Bobby leaned to push the chair out of their way and allowed himself to be guided gently onto the floor. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Or what?” Bobby teased as he stood up, never taking his eyes from the demon whilst he removed his jeans. Seeing him lying there, still wearing that suit, waiting for him… it was almost too much to take. Pulling off his shirt he knelt down, positioning himself so that he was atop the other man. Crowley looked up at him, watching the hunter’s every move as he reached to undo the suit pants, sliding them down and running a hand teasingly up his leg. Crowley gasped quietly, shifting under Bobby’s hand until it was touching him properly. “Is that what you’re looking for?” 

Bobby said nothing, instead stroking Crowley until he was arching and wriggling beneath him, hands grasping at thin air. He had to fight the urge to keep going like this, relishing the look on his face, the pleasure at the way he touched him. Finally he managed to pull his hand away, unsure of quite what he was supposed to do next. 

Crowley opened his eyes, taking in the uncertain look on his face. He pointed over towards the desk, “Check in there… I left something for you.”

Bobby stood up, walking over to the desk and fishing inside the top drawer. Pulling out a bottle of lube he held it up with a baffled expression. “When did you put this here?”

“Last time I paid you a visit. You really underestimate a man who can teleport you know…” Crowley smirked, his usual cockiness returning. “Call it a little wishful thinking…”

“Damn presumptuous I’d call it.” Bobby grumbled, making his way back over. 

“Aren’t you glad?” Crowley asked, watching as the hunter opened the bottle and squeezed out the gel onto his fingers. He shifted himself closer as Bobby’s fingers went down to find his entrance, noticing that he was shaking a little. “That’s it…”

Bobby worked slowly at first, pushing a finger inside and moving it around. He tried to ignore the way Crowley squirmed beneath him as he pressed deeper; the way he seemed to forget to breath and the quiet ‘Oh fuck…’ that escaped him. He added another finger and then gradually another, enchanted by the way Crowley moved in response. Finally he pulled his hand free and moved closer so that he was in the right position, moving Crowley’s legs and guiding himself in. 

“Fuck… Robert…” Crowley moaned, pulling Bobby closer and raising his legs to wrap around the hunters hips. His fingers scratched against Bobby’s back as he moved, hands sliding down to his lower back and clutching him as his thrusts slowly increased speed. 

Bobby shivered at the feeling of Crowley’s fingers on his back, losing himself in the way he cried out, head thrown back and panting. He could feel Crowley’s cock pressed against him as he moved, looking down to find that it was sticky. Slowing his pace he moved to change position, pulling Crowley carefully into his lap. Wrapping an arm securely around him he used his free hand to touch and tease, reveling in the sounds the demon made as he began to stroke and thrust in unison. Quite how he knew what he was doing he had no idea, and perhaps he really didn’t, but it didn’t matter. He could feel the way Crowley’s body responded to him, the way he twitched in Bobby’s hand, threatening to spill over at any moment, the way he held onto him as though he never wanted to let go and looked at him as though he was the only other person in the world. If Hell could be like this… if being with Crowley would mean having this… in that moment he felt as though he would well and truly sell his soul and never once regret it. 

Crowley brought a hand to Bobby’s neck, pulling him into a kiss that left them both gasping. He could see the way he was concentrating on staying in control, in not letting go, the way he furrowed his brow and the trembling in his limbs. He leaned in, whispering into the hunter’s ear “let me…”

Taking Bobby’s hands, Crowley moved them to his jacket, urging him to remove it. The hunter obliged, pulling it off before loosening and removing the tie. Then, straightening it out, he pulled it back around the demon’s neck, using it to draw him closer. Crowley hissed in pleasure at the feeling of Bobby’s teeth nipping along his neck, hands moving to his back and guiding his hips until Crowley found himself rocking against him. 

Bobby’s eyes were fixed on Crowley’s face, on the way his tongue darted out to lick his lips. His body shook as he moved, rhythmic as a wave, drawing them both closer and closer to orgasm. Placing a hand on his neck, the hunter leaned in, “look at me.”

Crowley’s eyes flickered open, fixing on Bobby’s as he bucked against him. The hunter watched him, eyes full of need and passion, calling out hoarsely as he came. Crowley moved for a minute more, frantic and desperate and lost until he felt himself release, clutching Bobby’s shoulders and moaning his name, falling against him. 

Bobby held him until his breathing slowed, until they’d both relaxed, and then began moving him gently so that he could clean up. Crowley moved his hands lazily across the hunter’s chest, tracing the scars that were like a map across his body. He touched them as though he were trying to learn them, to remember them, as though they were important. Bobby brushed the pad of his thumb across the demon’s cheek and then pulled himself away, getting up and moving off to find his clothes. 

Crowley remained quiet for what seemed like an age, simply watching Bobby move about the room as though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Eventually he stood too and picked up his jacket, tie and trousers, putting them back on. Turning around he found Bobby with a shotgun in hand and couldn’t stop himself from recoiling. 

The hunter saw the look on his face and shook his head, “No you idjit… for that!” He pointed at the Devils Trap on the ceiling before taking a shot at it, breaking its hold.

Crowley stepped out, giving the trap a distasteful glance. “One of these days I’ll arrive and find you _haven’t_ caught me like a bloody butterfly in a net.”

Bobby chuckled and watched as Crowley advanced towards him, stopping a foot or so in front of him. It was strange watching him try to get back to business after what they’d just done, oddly endearing. 

“Well, let’s finish this then shall we?” his voice was low as he reached out a hand, watching the red ink of the contract appear on Bobby’s skin and then slowly vanish. 

“Don’ be takin’ the part about the legs,” Bobby warned. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bobby put a hand to his heart, ignoring the way the demon rolled his eyes. He felt somehow heavier and lighter at all once, brighter somehow. 

“You know,” he said, taking the last step to close the space between himself and the man looking up at him, “you don’t have to own a soul for somebody to be yours…”

Crowley shook his head, trying to hide that same too-innocent smile that he’d worn earlier. The walls were coming up again, the mask being put on. He was shifting from simply Crowley back to The King of Hell and Bobby felt sad at the realization. 

“I’ll remember that.” He said, touching Bobby’s arm. Then he let go and was gone.

Bobby sighed, walked to the desk and picked up the phone. It rang for so long that he almost gave up, but then an angry voice appeared on the other end. 

“Bobby?! What the HELL?”

“Hello to you too Dean,” he replied, taking a deep breath and waiting for the onslaught.

“Where WERE you? We’ve been here for hours! We thought something had happened to you! It’s COLD here!”

“Listen, I don’t have time for your bitchin’ ” he braced himself, “There’s been a change of plan.”

“A… a change of plan?” Dean was fuming and Bobby could hear Sam in the background asking what was going on.

“Yeah, look, I got it sorted alright? So I need you to pack up Crowley’s bones and get yourselves back here.”

“Pack up his… Bobby have you lost your damn mind? Why aren’t we burning this dick?”

“I told you, I sorted it. I’ll explain properly later, but we need those bones.” 

He heard the phone drop and the distant sound of Dean swearing before Sam picked up.

“Bobby? You alright?”

“I’m fine. Can you get the bones back here or not?”

“We… Dean! Get off!” Sam’s voice grew distant, and Bobby could hear Dean shouting, “THERE BETTER BE A GOOD REASON FOR THIS BOBBY!” 

“Just get yourselves back here.” Bobby growled, hanging up before they could say anything else. 

A good reason… they had no idea.


End file.
